It Depends on the Wielder
by JediMagnet09
Summary: Desperation and despair did incredible things to people.


**I don't know what this is. It hit me and I wrote it - then figured why not share it? So I suppose this is a bit of a character study of sorts? Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! Please review! I do love to read them and it inspires me! Also: I am working on my other story (Emrys), I'm just deciding what one-shot I want to write next. :)**

Desperation and despair did incredible things to people.

Arthur had come to see this in a whole new light in the last few years, since the truth about his manservant had been revealed and Arthur had learned the full extent of all that had happened to him in the last decade – or since birth really.

There was a spectrum, the king believed. On one extreme lay insanity.

Arthur could admit now that his father lay on this end. His despair had led him to attempt to exterminate an entire people, many of whom had been innocent. The long list of Uther's victims included many of Arthur's dearest friends' family members and loved ones. It included children and mothers and fathers. Uther's despair had torn his kingdom apart, till trust was hard-earned, forgiveness was gone, and hatred abundant. He had lied to his children and his people, driven away most allies and friends, and nearly killed those few who had remained.

Arthur could also now admit that one of the casualties of his father's madness was Morgana. Morgana's desperation and despair had sent her down the same path that Uther's had – one of hatred and anger that festered and boiled till it consumed any she had once loved. She had killed thousands of innocent people, including family. She had fostered rebellion, destroyed lives, separated families, and hunted those she once called friends.

And their greatest victim, the one who had suffered the most at their hands? Arthur could freely admit that as much as he himself had suffered at their hands, Merlin had suffered far more.

Merlin lay at the other side of the spectrum. Arthur would go so far as to say he was the _epitome_ of the incredibly amazing things that despair and desperation could do to a good man.

His dearest friend had turned his losses and struggles into strength. Merlin was the strongest man the young king knew and he would freely admit it – at least in his own mind. Merlin had used the very thing that was hated or used as a tool for hatred and proved just how beautiful it could be. He had _saved_ thousands, often at great cost to himself. He had let his desperation foster an incomparable loyalty that gave him the strength to not just survive after tragedy, but excel and grow. But all of that wasn't even the greatest thing about Merlin. His desperation, his despair, had made him humble. For all that he could do, for all that he had done, Merlin never asked for credit. He never asked for reward – for money or land or anything even similar to such. All he asked for was friendship.

Arthur could hardly believe that fate had so kindly and mercifully granted him such a friend.

 _And what of me?_ The king wondered. _What has my desperation and despair done to me?_ _Where on the spectrum do I lie?_

"MERLIN!" Arthur's call was full of fear and anger, turning the heads of his faithful knights as they looked for the source of such clear agony in their king.

Arthur watched as the sword was ripped from his best friend's abdomen, as Merlin's eyes went wide, as his shocked blue eyes flashed gold and sent his attacker flying back – along with all of the other soldiers that had accosted the band of friends. The king rushed to Merlin's side, catching him as he fell, letting his sword drop carelessly in the dirt – it hardly mattered to him now.

Pulling his friend against his chest, pressing a hand against the deep wound ( _not fatal, it couldn't be fatal)_ , Arthur fought the panic back. He met Merlin's eyes, worried at the glaze that was already starting to subdue them. "Merlin? Merlin, just hold on."

Merlin, with effort, managed to place a hand over Arthur's. "It...It's...o-okay." he managed to gasp. "Y-you'll b-be okay."

Arthur's own eyes flashed with anger born of fear. "No, Merlin. Don't you dare. You can't give up on me, you idiot." The anger faded as Merlin blinked slowly, his eyes drooping more. The king's free hand rose and he gently patted Merlin's cheek to get his attention. "I need you, Merlin. Don't give up." he said softly, desperately.

Merlin's lips quirked in a weak smile. "N-not an-anymore. Y-you'll b-be fine."

Arthur was confused for a minute, but as understanding set in, he felt a fiery passionate blaze light in his chest.

What had Arthur's desperation and despair made him? It had made him compassionate. The haughty prince had become a soft and gentle king. He understood now, better than ever, why it was said that he and Merlin were two sides of the same coin. Merlin had already had compassion – he had gained strength. Arthur had already had strength – he had gained compassion and humility.

When Arthur next opened his mouth, he hardly recognized his own voice. It was gentle and powerful in a way that he had always associated with the wisdom of Merlin. "Merlin, you are not just a protector to me and you know it. You are my greatest adviser. You are my best friend." Arthur's gaze met Merlin's and held it. The king allowed every ounce of his conviction and passion to show in his eyes and face. If there was ever a time, this was it. "But it's more than that even. Merlin, you are my brother. And I _need_ you. I can't do this without you – not your magic, Merlin, without _you_." He could see the tears building in Merlin's exhausted eyes and he forged ahead. "So for once in your life, you are just going to listen to me, okay? No argument, no questions. Stay with me."

Life and strength seemed to bleed back into his friend's, his brother's, eyes, and Arthur felt relief light in him. A single nod was all Merlin could manage, but the king knew that Merlin was back on board and ready to throw all he had into survival – not for his own sake, but for Arthur's.

So, Arthur concluded, desperation and despair were not inherently bad or good. Rather like magic, it depended on the wielder.

 **I'm not going to write any more, but in my mind, Merlin ends up just fine. This is a happy ending! :)**


End file.
